I added another name to my calendar yesterday. The calendar I keep to remind myself of the anniversaries of the deaths of people I want to be sure to remember. That makes three additions to that calendar since I added John’s name in January of this year.
Now another family begins the long road of grieving the loss of their precious loved one.
I put John’s death certificate in our safe deposit box last week. As I type this, I once again think—I still can’t believe this has happened. John’s death certificate.
It took several months for us to receive it in the mail. And once we knew it was on its way, every day as the mail would come, it would be the same thing—heart beating a little faster until I saw that it didn’t come that day.
Once someone has left this life it’s too late to do those things you wanted to do and say those things you wanted to say.
The night before John went to heaven, there was something I wish I had done, but I told myself I would tell him about it later. It was an insignificant thing, but still something I wish I had not put off.
Robert talked to John about 9:00pm on Friday, January 6, 2017, to confirm where we would meet him on the 8th once we arrived in Minneapolis. January 8th was his 27th birthday. It had been nine months since we had been up to see him. On April 3, 2016, we left him standing in the driveway of the home where he lived waving goodbye to us. As we drove away, I looked back until we turned the corner, and I silently prayed that it wouldn’t be the last time we saw him.
Waiting with Hope 